


Unsure in the Shire

by Queue



Category: The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, due South
Genre: Comment Fic, Crack, Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-28
Updated: 2010-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-14 04:28:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/145376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queue/pseuds/Queue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Commentfic written for nifra_idril, October 2004, for her first-line-of-fic meme. My introduction at the time: "Ohmigod. I really must be on drugs. Drugs I don't know about, I mean."</p>
    </blockquote>





	Unsure in the Shire

**Author's Note:**

> Commentfic written for nifra_idril, October 2004, for her first-line-of-fic meme. My introduction at the time: "Ohmigod. I really must be on drugs. Drugs I don't know about, I mean."

It’s been raining for four days, and all that straight green grass bristling against the earth of the Shire is starting to lie flat in the mud. To see this, of course, Ray practically has to lie flat himself to get one eye to the thing in the middle of the door – oversized peephole? confused window? whatever the fuck it is, it’s impossible to see out of if you’re, like, any taller than the average five-year-old. Not that it’s worth it, either, as Ray discovers once he’s scrunched down there, being as how after four days all that green-and-rolling-hills crap goes the same shit-brown as dirt in Chicago tends to do. Apparently the laws of science — what little Ray groks of them, anyway — work the same way here as back home.

Ray tries to find this reassuring, but he can’t quite pull it off: the flash of red he was hoping to see somewhere in all that wet brownness is stubbornly refusing to appear, and he’s getting a little concerned. Fraser’s been gone since before the rain started, off somewhere with the neighborhood mayor-type person (a big guy for around here, Ray gathers, which means he comes up to Ray’s nipples rather than Ray’s belly button), looking for someone Mayor Fuzzyhead says will be able to get them back to Chicago. Who this guy is and how he’s gonna pull that off is not something Ray knows the answer to, but that’s okay, because as long as Mr. MIA Solutionmeister can get them the hell out of here and back to the mean streets he could fucking wave a wand at them and make them vanish in a puff of smoke and Ray would be just fine with that.

Meanwhile, Ray is so over this view he’s, like, around the corner from it already, so he straightens out as much as he can and turns. He grunts in pained irritation when he bumps his sprained ankle against the wall, a sound that morphs into an embarrassingly squeaky surprised noise when he realizes he’s once again groin to face with the owner of the — burrow? yeah — where he’s taken shelter.

Shit.

Okay, see, this is what’s really worrying Ray, to be totally honest, is this guy. All the rain’s a minor downer, right, but Ray’s kind of used to rain by now (hello, Windy City, lake they call Michigan, hello?) and he’s sure it’ll end pretty soon, since no one who actually lives around here seems to be afraid of, say, drowning in their beds. And Fraser – yeah, Ray misses him six ways from Sunday, separation from one another obviously being another thing that works the same way here as back home. But he knows Fraser can take care of himself, and he checked out Mayor Furryfeet pretty thoroughly back when the two of them were preparing for their trip – yeesh, Fraser can spend hours talking anyone’s ear off when it’s quality camping equipment on the table – and he doesn’t have a lot of concerns on that score either.

He’s not even all that worried about getting home. When it comes right down to it, Fraser’ll find the solution. Fraser always does.

Ray would be so okay with Fraser and Mayor Funnyface making like Mr. Fix-Its a little faster, though. Because here’s Ray’s host, the future star of Ray’s personal anti-wet-dream, eyeball to balls on Ray and leering at him like the last girl at the bar after closing time’s called. Ray’s having a lot less trouble than he wishes he was having figuring out exactly how this dude would like to spend their fourth rainy afternoon together in a pretty small space: after four years with Fraser, Ray knows from subtle, and the hints that have been dropped have not exactly fit that description.

Evidently, however, the hint-ER thinks he’s failed to get his point across, because he’s clearly geared himself up for a new effort. Ray braces himself, back against the door (which he can’t really move away from anyhow, given that the front hall is about the size of his desk), and tries to remember all the good reasons Fraser would have for not kicking members of another species in the head as the face at his belt buckle prepares for speech.

“Well, Mr. Kowalski, I’ve shown you the first and second kitchens, the garden, the formal dining room, the informal dining room, and the snacking area.

"Perhaps now you’d like to see the rest of my...hobbit hole?”


End file.
